


A Day In the Life

by lennons_lemon_queen



Series: Adventures in Pepperland [1]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennons_lemon_queen/pseuds/lennons_lemon_queen
Summary: Pepperland.A place where everything and anything can and could be possible. The lives of four dedicated musicians intertwine and go about as if it were any other day. Except it isn’t, and never quite is.When the infamous Kite Theatre is threatened to be shut down, Sgt. Pepper and his band combine talents to help save it while navigating their feelings and relationships in the meantime.So sit back, take a drag of some efferflourescent powder, and enjoy the show.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you guys for checking out my piece! I'm so excited to share this au I've created from the Sgt. Pepper album.  
> Each chapter is a song off of the album and they all kind of flow into one another.  
> I loved writing this so much and this piece is my child so I hope you all like it lmao  
> Happy reading-Log

PROLOGUE--SGT. PEPPER'S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND

Shimmering satin is illuminated on the stage. The band thrums to life with vigor. Silken pink, green, blue, and orange dance before the amazed audience's eyes. Men and women of all ages looked on in awe, for it was the famed Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Each twang of the guitar sent thrills down your spine. Each pluck of the bass a butterfly in your stomach. The drums encased you in a mystical aura and the world around you would begin to slip away. This was the power that those with the Musical Gift had. This was the magic that each individual fingertip could elicit. To take you from one world to another in the bat of an eye.  
As the song went on, the audience continued to marvel. The four engaging men were very pleasant in attitude and most get the sensation of greeting an old friend the moment they take the stage. And that is why they were the favorite among the Pepper Community. That is why Mr. Kite always called on them when he needed an act. And, being the first day of Spring in Pepperland--it was a celebration indeed. When the flowers bloomed, the people prospered. When pink petals plumped and plummeted, showering the land in a hazy delight. The desire for living life to its fullest potential was strong. As was the desire for music. For music was almost as essential as Springtime in Pepperland. Music was what made the world go 'round. Music and love. For most times, if not all, music was love. And without it, they would perish. But with it, only contented prosperity. And in this glorious season, when love, and life was living, breathing, in the air--music was second nature. And so the Pepper Band thrived.  
For the very first day of Spring back in the Olden Times, is when Sgt. Pepper himself sought out a band to play his music. He had come across Mr. Terrence Paul O'Belle--a musician and composer from the East. Never before had he met such a soul that perfectly interlocked with his own. Their music flowed with the same life force. The same passion. Sgt. Pepper grew rather attached to O'Belle, and they have lived together ever since on Dramsbury Avenue in a little Victorian home coated with a deep blue trim. And then Pepper met Mr. George Gregory James. A lovely, humble man from the South, who always smelt of Passionflower. He too had the Musical Gift, and so he joined Pepper and Terrence. Shortly after, Mr. James stumbled upon Billy S. Shears during a Greystorm and offered him his bright pink coat. Mr. Shears happily obliged, and they walked together through the fading, nearly-colorless alleyways and tree-lined sidewalks in Pepperland, as they were that way in a Greystorm. And, little to Shears's knowledge, he had the Musical Gift! George had only needed to bring his attention to it. And so Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was formed. But that was many years ago today. And today, my dear friends, is another story.  
  



	2. With A Little Help From My Friends

Now, the show had just begun. The lights dimmed and the crowd went into an excited hush. The glistening purple curtain swayed silently in the dim light as a singular spotlight was guided onto the stage. Billy Shears strode on, and stepped firmly into the beam and the rest of the Band nodded to one another before they dove into their second number. Billy was singing an earnest song, vulnerable and honest, it was. And he had won the crowd over entirely. 

Little to the Band's knowledge, on the other hand, something quite dastardly was taking place in the echoey halls of the Kite Theatre's basement.  
The music carried through the spacious corridors, distant and tinny. We are far off from the stage now, looking upon three little mice chewing away at the strings on O'Belle's Magical Colour Piano. The act in itself wasn't dastardly, but these were no ordinary mice. They were Achromatic Devibranting Mice. Designed by one of the Meanies during the Great Meanie War to suck the color out of Pepperland. And the fact that these remnants had been overlooked are quite terrible to imagine indeed. Because when they fed, they spread. And grow in numbers to great sizes and infestations.  
The piece of piano they had been chewing was already turning grey. And now two more mice emerged from the group and started chewing too. One mouse decided to move to the wall and the grey began to travel up, seeping along the once red coating of paint that followed back to the stage.  
Sgt. Pepper's band was preparing for their next number. The stage was black, O'Belle and Pepper were sitting on a blue elongated piano bench, getting ready for their duet. But when the Magical Colour Piano came up through the trapdoor and the lights came back on, the audience gasped. A woman screamed and hid her young child.  
"LOOK! LOOK! ITS SPREADING!!" A horrified cry sounded.  
The piano itself was grey and everyone looked on in fear as every color in Kite Theatre faded to a pale, sheenless grey.  
"...Oh my," Terrence whispered.  
Pepper put a steady hand to his elbow.  
"Now, now. It'll clear up. It might just be a leak and its storming outside."  
Billy and George ran to summon Mr. Kite.  
Meanwhile, people were already flooding out of the theatre. Though a large group remained and they murmured to one another in the bleak surroundings of the auditorium in their colored suits.  
"Ladies and Gentlefolk, my sincerest apologies," Mr. Kite announced as he stepped onto the stage in his dark green silken suit.  
The last trickle of the audience calmed somewhat.  
"We have experienced a minor Greyscale outbreak. But, not to worry, we will be able to sort things out by Thursday night's show! Please, have a positively, pepperful day!"  
The people nodded and left respectfully, leaving only Mr. Kite and the Band onstage.  
"Wherever the little mice went they're certainly gone now." Billy explained to Kite.  
"Yes, cowardly little things, they are. But unfortunately that means they've gone out into the City. They will spread, but the City Management Team will take care of it." Kite explained.  
"What will we do about the theatre?" O'Belle asked.  
Mr. Kite smiled warmly. "I will take care of it all, Terrence. Please, don't worry yourself."  
"See, I told you, darling." Pepper cooed.  
Terrence rolled his eyes. "I know, but look at this place! Its utterly depressing!"  
"And that's why we're leaving it closed for repair until Thursday. So, do go on with your lives now boys. You all know that I will call you if I need you." Mr. Kite pulled out a large orange Efferflourescent Flower corsage from his coat pocket.  
"Yessir." The Band agreed in unison.  
Pepper offered Terrence his arm and they walked out together, and Billy and George followed down the aisle towards the doors as well.  
"My, my..." Mr. Kite muttered to himself. "we haven't had a Uprising in ages." 

* * *

  
When O'Belle and Pepper got home, they welcomed the sight of the house after a long performance schedule. One of Terrence's pups, Martha trotted over and pawed excitedly at his pantleg.  
"Oh, hello, old girl!" He petted her happily and Pepper pressed a noisy kiss to her shaggy head before doing the same to Terrence's cheek. He blushed and adjusted Martha's collar.  
"Let's do go inside, I'd like to change out of this suit. Heaven only knows how uncomfortable it is, sweating about all night." Pepper said.  
"Okay." Terrence pulled out his ring of keys and pushed a blue one (as to match the paint) with a heart on it into the lock.  
Their house was spacious, yet quaint. Hardwood floors and white trimmed paneling for each room was a different color and had a tenancy to rearrange themselves whenever they pleased. But all of the houses in Pepprland did that.  
O'Belle found his way to their bedroom and laid out a soft shirt, bottoms, and a smoking jacket for the pair of them before stepping out of his silken blue performance suit to hang it in the wardrobe.  
As he got dressed, Pepper hung his own suit and gave a great yawn.  
"Y'know it may Colorstorm tonight. I saw the clouds o'er head."  
"Oh, did you?" Terrence helped Pepper button his shirt and jacket before grabbing their pipes. "...Would you like to go out picking flowers?"  
Pepper smiled and removed his circular spectacles, setting them on the nightstand. "That would be lovely."  
"Maybe we could invite Billy and Geo? Try to write a new piece of music."  
Pepper took his pipe and sprinkled some Efferflourescent Smoking Powder inside before lighting it. "Sure."  
Terrence smiled and walked with him to the Study.  
"Y'know, John," O'Belle started, (as John was Pepper's first name) "What do you suppose was the cause of those awful mice?" Terrence lit his own pipe and blew out a billow of purple smoke.  
Pepper looked at the wallpaper as it changed from purple to yellow and exhaled a mouthful of pink smoke.  
"...Someone pulling some kind of trick, probably. Or the mice were simply there and they took matters into their own hands."  
Terrence sighed and leaned back further in his armchair. "But, do you think Kite will be able to fix the entire theatre by himself?"  
Pepper covered Terrence's hand in his own. "He built the place, Paulie. If anyone can fix it, it's Kite."  
Terrence smiled at Pepper, and kissed him on the cheek. "Yes, I suppose you're right."  
The hands on the clock on the mantlepiece never moved, and Terrence could see the reflection of his face in it: fair-skinned, wide-eyed, with soft, dark hair and a mustache he mainly grew for the Band that rested above his rosy lips. Pepper had a head of red-flecked dusty brown hair and thoughtful chocolate eyes. He too, had grown a mustache, and the ends of it tickled the sides of his chin when it turned to a partial beard a few moons ago.  
Terrence felt something brush against his leg and when he looked down he saw little Eddie. The smaller scruffy dog that liked to hide in the house, rather than play outside like Martha.  
The little dog whimpered and Pepper moved to pick it up, much like a crying child.  
"Oh, what's the matter, little one?"  
Terrence scratched Eddie behind his ear and smiled. "He just wants attention."  
"Oh, do ya now?" Pepper grinned and covered the little dog in kisses.  
Terrence took a final drag off of his pipe and blew the green smoke up at the ceiling and the couch stretched out in size before turning into their bed. The bedroom had moved itself again. And at the right time, too.  
"Are ye tired, love?" He asked John.  
John gave another large yawn and set little Eddie down on the multi-colored quilt. "Very."  
"Good." Terrence took John's pipe and set it on the nightstand as they got situated in bed.  
John curled into Terrence and buried his face in his neck, sighing contently and Terrence wrapped an arm around him.  
"G'night, Paulie." John murmured.  
"Is it night?" Terrence whispered.  
"I dunno, is it?"  
"Does it matter?"  
"Absolutely not."  
"Good night, dear."


	3. Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds

Tucked within a faraway land the Province of Pepperland lay, or lie--no one is really quite sure. Not even I. For I am merely the storyteller.   
Pepperland. Where trees grew with tops so high you could never see them, even if you chose to fly up and take a look. With people so sweet and kind, that celebrated themselves in the brightest of colors and the liveliest of patterns.   
Pepperland in Springtime was like no other place. For the air was filled with the scent of the Efferflourescent flowers, that each had their own special names and powers. You could get lost among them, and not have been anywhere to begin with.   
They all grew in wonderful brilliant colors and were perfumed uniquely to their own breed. For these flowers were very important in Pepperland. Especially in the spring.   
Usually, one wore a corsage with their suit. Both as a decorative item, but also as a tool. If someone needed to contact someone they were close to, all they would need to do is play the flower. People with the Musical Gift could play music with these flowers. And each one could make a different sound.   
Pepper, for instance, has a rare breed of flower: a _ruber holoserica lilum_. Or "red velvet lily." It was a red and white lily that, when played, sounded like a trumpet. It smelled faintly of chamomile and always rested in the top right pocket of his vest or coat.   
Terrence had one too, a _hyacinthum canticum_ , or "blue song." It resembled a bluebell and sounded like a soft chime. And to Terrence's surprise, it often smelt of blueberry pie--which happened to be one of his favorite desserts.   
They had picked their flowers at the same time, and knew that when one needed the other--they could always find each other again by using them. 

* * *

  
John was awoken by a great weight pressing down on him and the feeling of a slobbery tongue lapping at his face. He wasn't coherent, but mumbled nonsensically into his fluffy white pillow.   
"...Paul getoffme."   
Paul sat up startled. "'Tisn't me!" He pulled at Martha's collar and she stumbled off John's chest.   
John was mostly awake now and he laughed at Paul's defensiveness.   
"I didn't know, I barely opened me eyes!"   
"And ye can't see with 'em either. Here, put these on." Paul reached over and gave John his glasses.   
John blinked and looked around the room, sitting up.   
"Paul?"   
"Yes?"   
"The kitchen moved again."   
Paul looked down and felt a cold sensation underneath his satin pajama pants. They were sitting on the kitchen floor.   
"Oh," He examined.   
"Shall we get to it, then?" John asked, going back to find the bedroom to get his clothes.   
"Get to what?"   
"Picking flowers, do me a favor and call Billy and Geo, will ye?"   
"Can do." Paul smiled and stepped out on the front porch a moment, Martha trotting behind and slipped out the little blue flower from his top pocket. He rang it like a little silver bell and the sound echoed through the sleepy neighborhood before heading back in and going to get his clothes.   
When Paul came in the room, John was already dressed in a purple and orange robe adorned in bright yellow flowers, a white silk shirt, white slacks, and brown shoes.   
"Ah, I thought you'd wear the rainbow one." Paul commented on John's robe.   
John looked down and frowned a moment. "Maybe tomorrow."   
Paul nodded and got dressed himself in a red-collared dress shirt, a multi-colored cotton vest, black slacks, and black shoes when there was a knock at the door.   
"Come in!" Paul called from the hallway, making his way over to the front door.   
Billy and George stood on the porch and waved.   
John opened the door and greeted them both. Apparently, Billy had picked a pink cormeum on the way there and he placed it in George's hair.   
"So, where should we go?" Billy asked John and Paul.   
They all stepped outside and Paul locked the door behind him. John went into deep thought and they all stood there for quite some time, knowing that when John was thinking, there was a plan to be had.   
"Let's not go anywhere," He said at last. "Let's make somewhere."   
"Oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea!" Paul smiled giddily.   
"How do we do that?" Billy asked.   
"Just follow my lead." John said, and he took Paul's arm, walking down the road.   
As they strolled along Dramsbury, John plucked a white efferflorescent flower off of a bush that resembled an orchid. He sniffed it and handed it to Paul who did the same.   
"Caramel." John commented.   
"Mint." Paul replied.   
Paul passed the flower to George and George smelled it.   
"Cinnamon."   
Billy took it and gave it a whiff.   
"Strawberry."   
The scene around them began to change color and shape into a garden full of flowers. Waist high were the flowers, and it looked to go on forever. John plucked a yellow flower and smelled it deeply, allowing it to invade his senses, and the sky turned to the shade of the flower.   
Billy looked up in amazement and George picked him a blue flower to smell.   
Billy concentrated hard and he held the delicate little thing in hand.   
"Don't think too much about it--just let it happen." John told him.   
Billy sighed and closed his eyes before lifting the flower to the tip of his nose.   
Suddenly, a great blue stream gushed through the field.   
George patted Billy's head and smiled.   
"See? Ye got it."   
John picked another flower, a green one this time, and when he smelled it a little sturdy boat appeared and rested itself leisurely on the flowing sapphire current of the river.   
"All aboard?" He offered, holding out a hand to help his band step aboard.   
Paul took his hand first and stepped in carefully, leaning against the side railing. He gave the flower in his pocket a sniff and a striped canopy popped up to shade his head from the warm rays of the omnipresent sunshine.   
George hopped on next and Billy followed, and then it was John stomping up.   
"Let's see where this river goes, shall we?"   
"Lets," George replied. Everyone cheered in unison.   
John smiled and pulled out his flower from his pocket. He sounded the little trumpet and the boat heaved to life.   
Paul reached over the railing as they went down, letting his hand brush against the efferflorescent bushes. He plucked a violet one and when it brushed his nose a forest of fruit trees sprung up to their left. George picked one of the fruits and ate it. And then great blue clouds formed in the bright yellow sky.   
John looked down at the water speeding below them and let his hand run over it, when an idea hit him. He flung his hand out in a grand gesture and the water soared through the air until it stopped in the sky, hardening, and forming into something else entirely.   
"Are those...stars?" Billy asked.   
George squinted. "No, they're much too close to be stars."   
"Diamonds." Paul said.   
" _Diamonds_." John confirmed.

The group enjoyed themselves thoroughly as they floated down the endless river. Scene after scene stimulating their senses. Even when they hadn't seen a flower in over a mile it continued to change.   
"We should write a number about this." John said.   
George smiled widely. "They'd love it, Pep."   
"You think so?"   
"He's right, John. I think they would." Paul smiled and he leaned back on the bench he was sitting on, a purple cormium in his hair. The sweet dizzying scent floated down to his nose still and the others could smell it too.   
Suddenly, Billy had a thought about the theatre. A memory of the woman screaming at the greyspell. And the river vanished, leaving the band on a boat on a pit of sand.   
Billy recoiled. "I'm sorry,"   
Paul patted Billy on the shoulder. "It's alright, Billy. We needed to carry on anyway. John and I should be writing down that song for Thursday."   
"You sure?"   
The scene began to fade around them back to Dramsbury Avenue. The line of picket fences and Victorian houses. Little perfect manicured lawns.   
"Yes."   
"Okay, if you insist." Billy sighed and shook his head, looking down at his boots. "I'm going to go into the City."   
"Have fun!" Paul said as he watched Billy's form disappear down the sidewalk.   
  



	4. Getting Better

Billy walked the streets and looked upon many a friendly face. Though none of them said anything, most were puzzled by how glum he looked.   
"What's the matter fella, Blue Meanies?" A tall man in a top hat inquired. The old expression in itself was stale, and Billy didn't find it amusing. Especially with his involvements in the War. Billy wasn't a very tall man, but his features stood out in sharp contrast to most. He had silky brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. They often looked sad, but whenever he was on stage they would sparkle with renewed passion.   
Billy noticed that his eyes looked the same whenever he was with George... Billy often thought he cared too much for George. The tall, charismatic, brown-eyed musician. His friend. His companion. Billy shook the thoughts from his head.   
He straightened the orange collar of his dress shirt and hurried off towards a movie theatre.   
Alas, none of the films interested him. All of them were overflowing with idealistic societies and perfect romances. Normally, Billy wouldn't mind. He'd waltz right in there with George at his side, but he had an aching sadness in his chest. Much like the one he felt in that Greystorm all those years ago, when a particular gentleman offered him his coat...   
He decided to give a film a fair chance, knowing that work had been put in by artists much like himself.   
'Getting Better', was all it was called. A simple title that Billy found intriguing.   
It focused on the life of two lovers that are in perfect unison--until one of them experiences great hardship. A conflict not easily overlooked. They learn to endure, to survive and help out each other. And no matter how bad things would get in either of their lives they would always say 'it's getting better, it's going to get better!' Billy found this painfully ironic at first, but realized that it was because they were looking for a better future. One that they knew they could have.   
The film ended, and the lights rose. Billy was the only one in the theatre.   
Suddenly, he had a strong desire to go see George. 

* * *

  
Pepper and O'Belle were strolling through the park, arm in arm. A man in formal dress and his lady nodded in greeting and the pair smiled back. It was sunny, and the light peeked through the leaves of the trees.   
John was wearing a hat, it had a great white peacock feather sticking out of it that Paul had put there when they last visited the zoo. He pecked Paul on the cheek and Paul smiled at the feathery tickle of his beard and the hat.   
"I love you, dear." John said happily.   
"I love you too." Paul grabbed one of John's hands in his own, running a finger over the hills and valleys of his knuckles.   
A woman walked by with a baby carriage and Paul stopped in his tracks, nearly causing John to trip.   
The baby was blue-eyed and rosy-cheeked, gazing up at the world in awe and fascination.   
"Goodmorrow," The gentle lady greeted.   
Paul and John nodded respectfully, and Paul drew closer. He began to make faces at the little one and the baby giggled, squirming about in her little blue outfit.   
John put a hand on Paul's shoulder and leaned over to look down into the carriage and pull a face too.   
The woman giggled and mentioned meeting her love for dinner in the City, before going on her merry way.   
Paul and John looked at each other and something was communicated nonverbally. Something that didn't need words to be said.   
"...We can't," Paul mumured.  
"I know." John replied and stroked Paul's cheek. "But lots of folk in Pepperland are the same. We'll be okay."   
"It'll only get better, right? As we go along?"   
"Right."   
Paul smiled, slightly tearey-eyed. He grabbed John's hand again ad started to laugh.   
"...What would you think if I put Martha in one of those?"   
John giggled and shook his head. "She's enough without."   
"True." 

* * *

  
George was in a deep, meditative state. Halfway between the Worlds. He sat on a little tattered rug in the middle of the living room and grass had began to grow right up through it, as it always did when he would meditate. A little pink flower sprung up through a floorboard and bloomed, its yellow face shining in the sunshine that peeked through the kitchen window. A knock at the door sounded and brought George back to a conscious state. He stood To unlock the door and the small garden retracted back through the floorboards. It was Billy.   
"Oh, lovely to see you." George observed.   
Billy was elated at the sight before him and he wrapped his arms around the larger man, burying his face in the soft material of his tan shirt.   
George smiled and ran a hand over Billy's hair.   
"I'm home." Billy said quietly.   
"So you are." George replied.   
"I've just felt so awful. Since the theatre got ruined I've been scared that we'll never play music again, and Pepperland will fall back to the Old Times..."   
George shushed him softly. "It's okay." He lifted Billy's chin to make him look up at his face. "It's only going to get better from here."   
And Billy really believed him.


	5. Fixing A Hole

The next day it Colorstormed. And Colorstormed quite hard. Though the people were used to this kind of weather in this season. Everyone knew that all of the plants needed it. The people needed it too. If there were no Colorstorms, plants would merely be plants, animals merely animals. And Pepperland would be like any other place.   
During a Colorstorm, drops of colored rain would fall, and splatter whatever it came into contact with in whatever color it was when it fell. And so the little neighborhood on Dramsbury Avenue was covered in every square inch with colors of all kinds, and the excess flowed down the street and into the gutters.   
John was inside, reading a paper in his armchair in the living room while Paul poured a cup of hot tea.   
John was beginning to doze off as his weary eyes scanned the page, when a singular blue raindrop landed on the column he was reading. John blinked a few times to be sure of what he saw and turned to Paul.   
"It's...it's raining."   
"That it is." Paul sipped his tea and plunked out a little tune on the piano.   
"No, I mean--in here!"   
Paul turned. "Oh?"   
John showed him the paper and Paul furrowed his brows. "You sure you just didn't drool on it?"   
John scowled. "Yes."   
Just then, several drops of purple fell from the ceiling onto Paul's cheek. He blinked and looked up. "Oh dear."   
"Well, we can't just sit around--we need to do something!" John stood up and started searching for something to cover the ceiling.   
Paul felt more drops fall on his head and when he felt them with his hand it came away blue.   
"I'll go grab towels from the bathroom." He said.   
Paul opened the door to the bathroom and saw that green was dripping all the way down the previously pink walls.   
"The roof is leaking!" He yelled.   
"I think we've established that, love!" John yelled back.   
Paul ran to the cupboard and grabbed several towels, pressing them against the thin cracks he saw along the bathroom ceiling, standing on the toilet lid.   
"Paul! Com'ere!"   
Paul ran to the living room and saw John staring up at the middle of the ceiling, which was now leaking pink.   
"There's a hole in the roof."   
"What do we do?!"   
"We take off the hole, that's what we do. Take off the hole and paint over the cracks."   
"I need a ladder."   
"I'll go get it from the shed."   
"But it's still storming out there, you'll ruin your coat."   
"It'll come out in the wash."   
"Oh, Martha! She's still out there!"   
"Well then come out with me and get her."   
Paul followed John outside and saw the colored rain pelting the street. Martha stood in the middle of the once-green yard covered in pink paint.   
Paul whistled and she came running along inside, leaving a trail of pink paw prints all over the hardwood floor.   
When John returned with the ladder, he also brought two empty buckets and two paint rollers.   
"I'll go an' fill one up for ya. What color d'ya want the living room?"   
Paul pondered a moment, when three orange drops fell onto his forehead.   
"Guess I'll have to say..." He touched them with his fingers and looked at them as he pulled away. "Orange."   
"Okay." John went back outside and filled up the buckets with orange paint while Paul climbed up the ladder to examine the ceiling.   
"It's a rather big hole." He said.   
John grunted in agreement as he set the buckets down.   
"I'll help you."   
John climbed up the other side of the ladder and slipped his fingers under the hem of the hole. Paul did the same on the other side.   
"On three, ready?" John said.   
"Okay."   
"One, two, three--"  
They pulled the hole off of the ceiling, leaving the ceiling spared underneath. John crumpled it up in his arms like a bunch of used paper and discarded it on the floor.   
"John, you're going to get it all over the floor," Paul warned.   
John rolled his eyes and pulled out his flower. When he sounded it, the hole shrunk in size and crumpled further until it disappeared.   
"Now, to paint over this mess." He grumbled.   
Paul climbed down to cover the paint roller and began to roll it over the ceiling. John did the same, getting the wall behind the couch.   
After a few minutes, Paul began to hum a tune and John joined along. Without realizing, the room began to paint itself after a while, controlled by the music. Paul smiled and moved on to the bathroom and played his flower to change the orange to blue and repaint it. John could still be heard singing in the living room and Paul continued on, a wide smile on his face. He wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.   
Maybe holes in ceilings weren't such a bad thing.


	6. She's Leaving Home

Thursday morning came peeking through the bedroom window of the house on Dramsbury and John flinched at the first rays of sunlight, turning over to bury his head under the pillow.   
Paul was still soundly asleep, until the metallic clanging of their alarm clock went banging about. He stirred awake and sat up, yawning.   
"C'mon, John,"   
John grumbled something incoherently and pulled the sheets further up to his ear. Paul sighed.   
"You know we have to get going today."   
No response.   
Paul reached over on the nightstand for his flower and rang it. John's sheets flew back and he huffed.   
"Let a man 'ave a minute, will ye?"   
"We don't have time for a minute today."   
"You sure?"   
"Positive."   
John sighed and sat up, blinking wearily at the dark blue wall. He grabbed his glasses and slipped them up onto his nose. But before he could get over to the closet, he found himself in the kitchen again.   
"Confounded house!"   
John could hear Paul's laughter from the bedroom.   
"Hold on, dear,"   
Paul brought John a blue dress shirt and white slacks, his socks folded neatly on the top. He kissed John's cheek. "Now go get dressed."   
"...Uh huh..." 

* * *

  
The Kite Theatre stood proud on the corner of Fifth and Snelling Avenue as it always had. A great stone building it was, with ornate lanterns hanging over each large oak door. The colors often changed, and it's previous grey tone had been washed away by the Colorstorm to a kaleidoscope of shades. Purple, red, orange, green, and blue. In one respect, one would suppose it had painted itself.   
Mr. Kite had been working the past three days on colorizing the theatre again. It was a long process, and there was still a few final touches needed, but the theatre was starting to get its bright personality back.   
He stood back a moment and admired his work.   
It was a large theatre with rows and rows of red cushioned seats and opera boxes. There were murals alongside the walls that would change and rearrange themselves just as the paint did. It was a truly magical place.   
"Mr. Kite," Paul called from the aisle.   
"Ah, there you are, my boy."  
When Paul and John made their way over to Mr. Kite, he shook both of their hands warmly and smiled.   
"Glad you two could make it."   
"I see you've done a lot." John commented.   
Kite laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah. It was quite the project." He adjusted his corsage. "So, the main reason I called you boys in was to make an arrangement. We need a show tonight and Saturday night."   
"Can do, sir." John said.   
"Good. I was thinking something thought-provoking. Something that'll really wow the audience and keep their heads busy."   
"How 'bout a play?"   
Kite pondered. "A whole play?"   
"Well, a one-act I suppose. We could do our new number and then have the play after."   
"You've a new number?" Kite asked excitedly.   
Paul grinned. "Yes, we all worked on it. I think you're really going to like it."   
"Well then, boys," Kite gestured grandly to the stage. "blow me away!" 

* * *

  
The rehearsals for Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds were a success. And now George, Billy, Paul, and John all stood around the Color Piano, which had been restored to its previous working condition. The large strung harps that protruded from the frame shot up proudly and caught the color changing stage lights.   
"Let's try something heartfelt, something moving." George suggested.   
Paul nodded and played with a few notes, arranging them in an order. He hummed a tune. He thought of the child he had seen in the park briefly. Of who she might grow up to be, and how her kindhearted mother might react to her leaving home one day.   
"...Wednesday morning at five O'clock, as the day begins..." Paul murmured.   
George joined in and began strumming away at a few chords, soon followed by Billy and John.   
Soon, they had created a story together. Of this young girl starting her new life. The life she knew she was always destined to live. And the hardship experienced through the ignorance of her selfish parents.   
Kite had been listening from his office upstairs and he nodded to himself, a hint of a tear on his cheek. "I knew they could do it." He said quietly.

"What time is it?" Billy asked John.   
John shrugged. "Not sure. Who keeps track?"   
George laughed. "That is a good point."   
"We probably have some time still until the show. I'll go and change into my uniform." Paul said.   
"I'll do the same." George responded.   
Everyone dispersed and Kite came back downstairs. There was a light green envelope sitting on the floor that read 'Dad.'   
Mr. Kite felt his stomach drop and he shakily reached for it.   
...Could it be?   
Oh, but it was. 

'Dad,   
I will be attending the show tonight. If I don't like what I see, expect a repeat performance of Monday.   
-Mayra'

* * *

  
Paul rushed up the aisle with a bouquet of efferflourescent flowers in his hand, all blue and yellow honeysuckle-looking blooms and he slipped them into a blue glass vase in the lobby. A little card folded neatly by it said 'feel free to take one and enjoy the show.'   
"O'Belle!" Called a stagehand from the house.   
"Yes?"   
"We've five minutes until the house is open!"   
"Okay!" Paul ran back down the aisle and disappeared behind the curtain.

He knocked on the dressing room door with the placard that read 'Pepper/O'Belle' and heard John's tenor echo through.   
"Come in!"   
Paul opened the door and took one last glance in the full body mirror, fussing with his hair and mustache.   
"You look fine." John was struggling with the buttons on his green coat and Paul quickly fixed them, kissing John lightly on the jaw.   
"We have to be in the wings."   
"I know." John brushed off his pants and headed down the corridor towards the stage with Paul in toe.

When the lights dimmed, John stepped out and sat at the piano. He plucked out the melody to the new song and his voice drifted out into the audience in an almost hypnotically soothing introduction before the rest of the band appeared in blue, red, and pink lights joining in.   
The audience was hooked and the smell of flowers was everywhere. A dizzying euphoria settled itself over the head of the entire theatre and everybody watched in amazement as the backdrops continued to change color.

The song faded away and Paul sat next to John on the piano bench. With the first few notes of the next number, the backdrop behind them all began to visually represent the song. It showed a young woman in a floral dress writing a heartfelt letter in her bedroom.   
George flicked his gaze over his shoulder and saw the scene change as she packed a pair of green suitcases and leave the home she once knew behind and Billy looked at him with a reassuring expression.

Mr. Kite was biting his lip up in the director's box. He could look down and just see the top of Mayra's blue-haired head. She was fidgeting in her seat and looked around the theatre almost for a form of escape. He wanted to have the band burst into another number, something laced with a different efferflourescent but it was too late. Mayra stood up and stormed out of the theatre.   
"Oh, lord help us..." Kite whispered.

A Greystorm broke out and thunder echoed through the spacious building. Anxiety gripped the hearts of every person in the theatre.   
The Band continued to play as if their lives depended on it and Paul's hands glided over the keys until they were sore, trying anything and everything to soothe the stampede out of the theatre that was to come.   
"Now, now, ladies and gentlemen it's only a storm!" Mr. Kite spoke into his corsage, but the audience still looked distressed. "Just take a stratumflora on the way out, it'll keep you dry and colorful."   
People began to leave in groups and they grabbed the flowers, heading out into the Greystorming City.

"...Someone is trying to sabotage us." Billy said under his breath to George.   
"I reckon so, but who? Who would willingly cause such a riot?" Paul asked.   
Mr. Kite came down from his box and stood nervously in front of the Band.   
"I'm afraid I haven't been completely open with you boys."   
John raised an eyebrow. "Go on,"   
"You see, at first I assumed it was just a group of rabble-rousers from out of the City, but yesterday I found a note."   
"A note?" George asked.   
"Yes."   
"From whom?" Paul stood.   
"From...my daughter. Mayra."   
"Your daughter? I didn't know you had one." John said.   
"I do." Kite looked down. "She and I had a dispute since she was young and she despises the amount of time I put into owning this theatre. She came to the show on Monday and tried to sabotage it and when she heard the number you lads wrote tonight she thought it was about her and I and now I don't know what she'll do."   
The Band was silent, it was a lot to process.   
"So how can we fix this?" Paul asked at last.   
"I'm not sure. If I hear back from her any time soon I'll let you lads know."   
"What if she does more damage in the meantime?" John asked.   
Mr. Kite paused. "Then we'll just have to work with it."   
  



	7. Penny Lane

"We need to take you to get your hair cut." Paul said as he slipped his hand through John's hair. They were sitting in the kitchen in their robes having jam on toast.   
"Oh? Why can't I just cut it meself?"   
"Because you'll miss the back."   
"Then why don't you cut it?"   
"I'm not a barber!"   
"You're closer than the barber."   
"You're lazy."   
"You're right."   
Paul sipped his tea. "Penny Lane isn't that far. Besides, we could use a walk."   
"Alright then," John said. "let's get this over with." 

* * *

  
Penny Lane was a downtown strip of the City. Little family-owned businesses and town squares combined themselves into a community of various specialty shops and activities. The barber was in between the sandwich shop and the pet store. It had red lettering overhead the people getting their haircut in the window. Paul opened the door and heard the metallic chime of bells that reminded him of his flower pendant and greeted Mr. Peterson, their regular barber.   
"Ah, Terrence. Lovely to see you."   
"Lovely to see you too, sir. John needs a trim."   
"Oh does he?"   
John rolled his eyes. "Only a little one."   
Mr. Peterson chuckled. "Not to worry, not to worry."   
He guided them past the expansive wall of photographs that was behind the seating area over to his stool. Paul looked over at them, taking note of how much it had grown.   
"I see you've had quite a few customers since we've been here last."   
Mr. Peterson smiled. "That I have." He motioned for John to sit down and he wrapped a red smock over his suit.   
"Now, you know how it works. Ye don't have to stay here if you don't want to. Just gaze over at the paintings and I'll do the rest."   
John looked up at the wall above the dresser and saw a line of intricate paintings. All of them had such detail it was like looking through a window to another place. But every time he looked away and glanced back, it was different.   
He stumbled across one of a forest with several horses and closed his eyes a moment. Before he knew it, he found himself rocking to the steady rhythm of horseback and he opened his eyes again, seeing that he was now riding one through the lush trees. Riding coat, cap and all. He looked around and heard the clatter of hooves in the leaves behind him and saw Paul riding alongside. It was much colder here, and he could see his breath.   
"This is wonderful." John found himself whispering in awe as they rode through the chilly countryside.  
"I agree. What a place." Paul petted his horse's expansive mane. "Wanna see if we can find Geo and Billy?"   
"Sure."   
Paul and John rode along the little dirt trail when they heard the sound of laughter and shattering porcelain.   
"What's that?" John asked.   
"Dunno." Paul inched his horse further until he saw the cause of the commotion. George and Billy were donned in general suits, sitting at a large dining table and George was flinging sugar cubes at Billy with his teaspoon. Billy had been tossing saucers.   
"Oi, fancy meeting you here." Billy said to Paul and John.   
"Should say the same to you." Paul smiled and dismounted his horse.   
John followed. "Have ye drank all the tea?"   
"There isn't any! Otherwise we wouldn't be making arses of ourselves!" Billy replied.   
"All this silver and no tea?"   
"No tea." George said.   
"Well, fuck that." John lifted the table on the far end of the makeshift dining set and toppled it over.   
Everyone burst into laughter and started throwing the plates, the candelabras.   
"...Mr. Pepper," John heard a distant voice call. He turned.   
"Mr. Pepper..."   
John blinked and started at the cool feeling of the smock around his neck.   
"Y-Yes?"   
"I'm done with your hair." Mr. Peterson smiled.   
Paul shook his hand and smiled back. "Thank you so much."   
"You're very welcome."   
Paul took John's hand and they walked out of the barber down Penny Lane towards the pet store.   
"I want to get something for Martha." He said.   
"Okay." John was still a bit dazed.   
"Are you alright? You seemed to be really deep in something. You didn't go too far did you? Was it the flowers?"   
John laughed and shook his head. "I'm fine," He shuddered. "It was just cold as all."   
Paul giggled. "Last time I got my hair cut I found myself in the tropics."   
John snorted. "I thought I smelled Hawaiian flowers in your hair that day." 

* * *

  
Mr. Kite was sweeping great piles of blue dust out of the foyer. He twitched his nose and his mustache wiggled at the possible threat of a sneeze--when he did.   
The loud sound echoed through the empty theatre and he jumped with a start at the sight of another unopened letter sitting in the dustpan he had been sweeping the debris into.   
This one was much more formal.   
'Mr. Kite,' It read.   
'I am very insulted at the suggestion in your latest performance. If you should want to keep your theatre open to the public, I expect a lot to make up for this. Tomorrow night."   
Mr. Kite tucked the letter away into his coat pocket.   
It was time to call in the boys for a last minute meeting. But not now, now he needed to finish cleaning up this mess. 

* * *

  
Paul was sitting in the study, an open red leatherback book in his hands as he read aloud to the dogs. His pipe hung loosely from his lips, purple smoke trailing out the end as his wide eyes scanned the page.   
"...'Yes, but who are you?' Alice asked curiously to the already-irritated caterpillar.'"   
Martha nudged at Paul's cheek in his lap. She took up most of the chair and her weight made it hard for Paul to sit comfortably, but he was used to it by now. He kissed her moppy head.   
"Billy's gone into the wine," John said, popping his head in.   
"He has?"   
"Yes."   
"Well, if he has tell him to share it or put it back."   
"Can do."   
Paul listened into the kitchen.   
"Billy,"   
"Yes?"   
"Pour three more."   
There was the sound of glass clinking and wine being poured and Paul chuckled, setting down the book.   
"I'm afraid you'll have to move now, my dear." He told Martha and she looked at him with her big pink tongue hanging out the side of her panting mouth, hopping down.   
Paul made his way into the kitchen and he heard Eddie following him.   
"...Has anyone else got a bad feeling about what happened at the theatre?" George asked as he sipped his glass.   
Everyone exchanged looks.   
"Well, after all, it is Kite's daughter. He's had to deal with her before, I think he has everything under control."   
Just then, Paul's corsage started glowing. There was a distant voice that drifted in through the open kitchen window.   
"Everything's not under control. Can I please, please have you at the theatre as soon as possible? Thank you."   
"Well," John tried not to laugh. "fancy that."


	8. Being For the Benefit Of Mr. Kite!

"Is it morning already?" Billy asked George.   
"Not sure. Who keeps track?"   
"True."   
"--Boys!" Mr. Kite interjected.   
He was in his best suit, walking down the aisle and he perspired as if he had just run a marathon.   
"Whatever is the matter?" John asked.   
"I've just gotten another letter from Mayra."   
"What did it say?" Paul asked.   
"She wants a show. Tonight. And if she isn't utterly blown away she'll blow away my theatre!"   
"She can do that, can she?" Paul raised an inquisitive brow.   
"Well, if she chose to, I suppose. But she wants to close us down."   
"What for? What's got her so blue?! I mean we haven't done anything!" Paul was growing agitated. John touched his hand gently to his elbow and Paul noticeably calmed.   
"This is between me and her, as I explained before." Kite fidgeted with his cufflinks.   
"Alright then." John stood in front of Paul and faced Mr. Kite, tall and authoritative. "We'll give ye a show, sir. A show like we've never done before."   
Mr. Kite appeared very moved. He put a hand on John's shoulder. "Please do. I'm counting on you."   
"Alright lads!" John called to the Band. He removed his flower corsage and played the five note trumpet call. Everyone lined up accordingly. John nodded to Paul and Paul went to sit at the Color Piano, playing a series of chords as John raised his voice in song.   
"...For the benefit of Mr. Kite, there will be a show tonight on trampoline..."   
The song began to instruct the theatre how to rearrange itself. A small rectangular trampoline appeared on stage left and George decided to hop up and test it out. Sure enough, it worked.   
Mr. Kite was smiling and he hugged John tightly, catching him a bit by surprise. John smiled and nodded, conveying in a way that only he could that he wouldn't let him down.

As the song went on, John had completely altered the theatre from its original appearance to that of an optical illusion. There were mirrors, glittery curtains, and floral murals everywhere. Not to mention the visuals on the backdrops of various circus animals jumping through hoops. It was an elaborate setup.   
Paul smiled and kissed him on the cheek as he went by to his dressing room and John blushed.   
"You've outdone yerself this time, Pepper." George said, a smirk tugging at his lips.   
"Thank you."   
"Yeah, if this Mayra whomever doesn't like this--there's surely something wrong with her." Billy said.   
"I think there is anyway. But you're right."   
"Half hour until the house is open." A stagehand said, tapping John on the shoulder.   
"Thank you."   
"Of course."   
"Okay everyone, let's get in the wings!" 

* * *

  
There was a small audience that evening and everyone assumed that it was due to the fact that nobody wanted a repeat performance of Thursday. But there was still one blue-haired patron that made going out on stage equally as exhilarating.   
Paul was on playing the piano and Billy was helping a tiger made of efferflourescent flowers jump through a hoop. John assisting, wearing a green silk top hat and held an orange whip that he never dared to strike.   
When Paul's song ended the tiger faded away and they got their guitars and Billy's drum set, all standing on the trampolines.   
The audience was thoroughly amazed and entertained, but Mayra still didn't look impressed. She wore a scowl and crossed one thin leg over the other.   
John saw her unchanging expression and he actually broke character. He stopped playing and the rest of the band looked to him and at each other.   
"John, what are you doing?!" Paul yelled over his bass.   
John walked right off stage up to Mayra, who was in the front row and scowled back.   
"Okay--what is your problem?! We're out here, putting our heart and soul into our work night after night for you, and you do nothing but sit here and pout! Poor Mr. Kite has been working his rear off trying to please you!" John was trying to hold his temper back and Paul rushed offstage and grabbed his arm.   
"John, please!"   
"No!"   
"--Wait!" Kite came down the aisle and stood in front of his daughter.   
Mayra looked utterly insulted, and her gaze flicked over to her father in shock.   
"Mayra, please. I only want to make you happy."   
Mayra went silent, looking down at her shoes in contemplation.   
"He really means it." Paul said, looking between the pair of them. "Why do you always have to go one way when he goes another? Why do you say it's black when he says it's white? Everything's okay, let us show you that."   
Mayra looked much like a child ready to fall to tears and the audience members started to leave.   
"Please, Mayra." Paul rested a gentle hand on hers and she wiped the tears away with her sleeve.   
Mr. Kite took a seat next to his daughter and nodded to the Band to continue.   
Paul gave John a look that usually meant he had a plan and John grinned widely. He went back up the stairs to the stage and faced George and Billy.   
"All right lads, follow our lead!"   
Paul started playing and Billy jumped in, finding a comfortable tempo for his new song, when George and John came in on guitar.   
"You say yes, I say no! You say stop, and I say go, go, go!" Paul sang and John smiled at him from his place on stage.   
The band was electric, running off of last-minute improvisations, but having a helluva time doing it. The colors on the walls of the theatre began to change and Mr. Kite had a tear running down his cheek when he looked over to see Mayra actually smiling.   
"Open up the doors!" He yelled to one of the stagehands and he ran out of the wing to prop open the side exits and front doors. The music poured out and when the city-goers on the outside heard, huge groups started to pour in and clap along merrily to the beat.   
The song grew in liveliness and Mr. Kite stood and pulled his daughter up out of her seat by her arms and they danced around the theatre. Many people followed in their lead and some even went up on stage and danced with the band! It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

And that, dear friends, is how Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band saved the Kite Theatre, and the Kite family.

But our story isn't over yet.


	9. Within You Without You

The flowers grew up and over George, yet he still sat on that little tattered mat in his house. When he meditated, he could be anywhere, anyone he wanted to. Yet he always found himself drifting back to Billy. Was he stable without him? Or did he need him to grow, like the flowers that tickled his skin?   
Billy. Who had been so lonely for so long.   
Billy. Whom he had seen all those years ago, shivering and hopeless in the street.   
George loved Billy. He really did. But was it the same love that he saw Terrence and Pepper share? Was it the same love that he saw youths in the park share? Or was it some other kind of love. Some deep connection that he couldn't quite explain. Like the roots of two plants had been fused together, and if they separated, they'd surely wither.   
Is that how John and Terrence feel? Is that how everyone felt? Could I survive without him now? It had been too long, he could never be too sure.   
Billy. After all these years still prefers the pink military jacket that George use to wear before he joined Sgt. Pepper's band. Could he, too, not bear the thought of life without George? Did his life go on when he wasn't around?   
George opened his eyes and the plants began to shrink back down under the floorboards.   
"Billy," He whispered silently.   
"Yes?" Billy asked gently from over on the couch. George had forgotten that he was there.   
"A-Are you here?"   
"Of course, I'm here, George. All you need to do is call me." Billy smiled.   
George turned around to see his sweet friend, and tears fell from his eyes. He ran to embrace him and held him close to his heart, the same way he did to shield him from the Greystorm.   
"I love you, Billy." George said quietly.   
Billy's soft blue eyes went wide and he looked up at his friend.   
"...Really?"   
"Yes."   
"Are we gonna be like Pepper and Terrence? Have a little house on Dramsbury and get a dog?"   
George laughed. "We could get a house. I dunno about a dog though, what about a cat?"   
Billy smiled. "That sounds wonderful." 

* * *

  
"Did you hear?" Paul asked John at the kitchen table. They had been reading the paper.   
"Hear what?"   
"Well, Geo called me the other night and said that him and Billy are moving to Dramsbury."   
John smacked down his paper excitedly. "Hey! Good for them!"   
"Imagine the four of us," Paul giggled as he poured a cup of coffee. "neighbors."   
John shook his head and snorted. "We'd probably keep everyone up at night. With all the music."   
"I don't think they'd mind." Paul wrapped his arms around John's shoulders from behind and rested his head on top of his.   
"Who knows." 

* * *

  
The following week Billy and George had gotten themselves situated in a little yellow trimmed house next to John and Paul's. They had a large olive tree out front and a little orange tabby cat named Sugar who had a tenancy to sneak over the wall into their neighbor's backyard when Martha was asleep.   
It was bliss. Everyone getting along and sharing joy and music with one another. Balance had been restored. And the nights when they would all get together and play Paul's piano, they would leave the window open and sometimes people would listen in and smile out by the flower bushes.

But Spring was nearing its end.


	10. When I'm Sixty-Four

Paul had been quiet since he started to feel the seasons change. He withdrew more than usual and kept his head in books, or slept. Sometimes he'd put an efferflourescent tablet in his coffee with breakfast and slip away the rest of the day. John began to worry.   
"John," Paul started one afternoon as he sat on the couch. He put his book down. "remember that old couple we saw in the park last winter?"   
John nodded. "Yes, I do."   
"D'ya think you'll still love me, even when I'm that old and wrinkled? When my hands will be too sore to play? And my voice too rasped for singing?"   
John walked over to Paul and wrapped his arms around him. "Of course I would."   
Paul smiled, but couldn't comprehend anything else soon after that. The tablet he had put in his coffee had started to take hold, and his eyes fell gently shut as he slipped deep within another dream.

He was with John in his living room, the same as always, and he took his hand on bended knee. He guided John through all the rooms in the house and he saw them aging happily together. John knitting by the fire, Paul gardening out back, them taking care of Martha and Eddie when they got old.   
It was then that Paul realized he wanted to stay with John forever. He couldn't imagine himself being with anybody else, or wanting to through the rest of his life. He needed John. And he hoped that John felt the same way.

Ever since they had met back in London, there was something special about the way John would look at Paul. And when Paul noticed, it changed his whole world around.   
They had been shy, like a pair of young school children, stealing glances and exchanging fleeting touches that, brief though they might be, felt like pure electricity.   
One sunny afternoon, Paul had been walking home with John and when they stopped at John's flat, they realized that neither of them wanted to stop walking and talking. So they went on. Even as the yellow sun was setting low into the sky and the stars snuck out. They wandered into a park brimming with apple blossoms scattering the trees and the grass reflecting the twinkling heavens above. Paul had only taken one look at John in the soft glow of the moon and as he watched his auburn lashes brush his cheek, his lips had covered his before he was even aware of it. John had pulled Paul closer, cradling his trim form against his own as John's glasses pressed cold into Paul's cheekbone. When he saw them begin to fog he removed them, holding them away from their faces and when John pulled away he looked into Paul's soft eyes.   
"John, I--"  
John cut Paul off with a kiss, continuing them over his face and eyelids.   
"John," Paul tried again, weakly.   
John only giggled in response.   
"John!"   
John stopped kissing Paul's face, a smile still twitching at the corner of his mouth.   
"Thank you,"   
"Why, you're very welcome."   
Paul blushed furiously. "I was trying to say something!"   
"Like what? What is there to be said? I care about you, Paulie. I want to be with you. Is there any other way to say it than to simply be?"   
Paul pondered a moment. "...Well, we could have a celebration."   
"A celebration would only add to my happiness." John smiled.   
"What should we call it? What should we do?"   
John looked around at the trees and the petal covered grass. "What if there was a time where all trees would look like this? And they would grow only the most beautiful flowers. They could grow to be magic and even be used to play music!"   
Paul giggled. "What a lovely idea. But how will we do it?"   
John removed his arms around Paul's waist and walked over to the tree. He put a hand to its trunk before caressing a petal with his hand. "Like this," And John placed a gentle kiss to the flower.   
Paul watched as the flower grew in size and turned from white to pink, scattering its petals around. The petals spread and touched the other flowers and all the other trees, changing those flowers and those trees to bear the loveliest blooms Paul had ever seen. Sweet scents of honey and lavender, cherry blossom and peach breathed from their petals. London began to change color. It spread and spread.

_And spread..._

* * *

  
John was holding Paul, looking down at his soft face. His eyelids twitched and his dark brows furrowed as he twitched and shuddered. Deep in some place somewhere. He cupped his cheek with his hand and kissed the tip of his nose, and then he saw tears stream down his love's unconscious features. But it was accompanied by a wide smile that John reciprocated when he opened his hazel eyes.   
"I love you, John. And I'll still love you, even when I'm old and probably won't remember who I am."   
"Who are we now?"   
Paul furrowed his brows. "I...I...Why--we're us."   
"Then why would it matter?"   
Paul smiled. "You're right." He sat up carefully. "I'm sorry that I've been so off lately. I don't know what happened. I guess when I started seeing how happy Geo and Billy were it made me think about us, and our future together. And then that woman in the park with her baby..."   
"I know, darling." John wrapped his arms around Paul and ran his fingers through his hair.   
"It's getting better all the time, isn't it?" Paul looked up at John, lifting his dark lashes.  
"Every passing day."   
  



	11. Lovely Rita

The following morning John made coffee and set out a few scones. Paul was back to his usual self, yawning and stretching his way to the kitchen. He sipped generously from the mug that John gave him, but nearly spit it out when he pulled it away from his lips.   
"John,"   
"Yes, Paulie?"   
"Why is my coffee blue?"   
"Why is your coffee--WHA?"   
"Blue! It's blue!"   
"Okay, calm down!"   
"I won't calm down, John, it's blue!"   
"That was supposed to be my cup!"   
"Why is it blue?!"   
"Because I crushed a flower and put it in there! I was going to write this morning!"   
"John!"   
"What?!"   
"What do I do? What does this do?"   
"I don't know! I just took it from a bush and put it in!"   
Paul started to feel unsteady and his knees wobbled. John rushed to his side to keep him up, but he crumpled and fell to the tile asleep.   
"Wow. That was fast." John muttered. "...I guess that's why I should take small sips next time."

 

Paul was in a car. Which was an unusual occurrence to Paul because he didn't own one. He looked at the leather seats and enjoyed the subtle purr of the engine as he sped along the road. A little red car, it was. Or so he thought. It kept changing. A little blinking light warned him that he needed gas so he pulled over at a service station.   
"I need a tank of gas, please." He told the pair of legs that walked up to his car.   
The person bent down to reveal an ethereal feminine face. She had fiery red hair and brilliant blue eyes.   
"Okay, and will that be all for you today?"   
Paul was frozen, staring at the marvel that this girl was. Her soft voice like chimes, skin of silk. A messy cap laid on her pretty head and she wore a service bag. But he didn't care--to Paul, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.   
"W-W...ow." He finally managed to stutter.   
"Sir?" She asked, slightly concerned.   
Paul cleared his throat, realizing that he had been ogling her far too long.   
"Erm, yes. That will be all."   
"Very goo--"  
"--Wait," Paul reached out and brushed her hand with his own. The feeling was electric. "Would you care for some tea later? Maybe a drive?"   
The pause made sweat break out on Paul's forehead that he would later credit to the smoldering heat.   
"...Sure."   
Paul glanced at the woman's name tag and saw 'RITA' in cursive on the patch across her left breast.   
"Okay then, see you tonight," Paul smirked. " _Rita_." 

* * *

  
The pair of them were laughing over some joke in the car. What it was or why it mattered Paul had already forgotten, but he didn't care. He wrapped his arm around her as he drove and she scooted closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder as they sped down the road to somewhere.   
At a stop light, he brought the car to a halt, and Rita looked up at Paul with her brilliant eyes, batting her auburn lashes. "I think I...I think I'm in love with you..."   
Paul grabbed her face and kissed her hard, sloppily, but she didn't care and neither did he.   
Suddenly, somehow he was in a house. It felt unfamiliar to him, and he was sitting on a bed, his leather shoes on the floor as if he had taken them off to get ready for bed. But he didn't recognize the bed. Everything felt foreign. He laid down and turned over to see John laying there in the cap and service uniform, grinning wickedly.   
"Give us a kiss..." He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

 

Paul sat up in a cold sweat, panting on his kitchen floor. John was sitting next to him and he looked at Paul with a deep concern.   
"Are you okay?"   
Paul held up a finger and caught his breath. "I...I'm not sure."   
John laughed. "Not sure? What happened?"  
Paul shook his head and looked over at the orange walls of the living room. "Everything." He said simply.   
"Everything?" John asked, chuckling again.   
Paul nodded.   
"Okay. No more of that." John dumped the rest of the mug of coffee down the drain.   
"John," Paul called.   
"Yes?"   
"Help me over to the piano."   
"Can do."


	12. Good Morning Good Morning

  
John was sitting at the piano, a blank look on his face. He had been trying to think of a song all day and nothing would come to him. Paul had gone out to the movie theatre with George and wouldn't be back until later. So John heaved a heavy sigh and hastily began to scribble a few notes.

_'Nothing to say' 'Nothing to do' 'it's up to you'_

John stared at the words for a while and began to think of how life would be if he had to make it up as he went. What would life be like outside of Pepperland? In the other Worlds he had heard rumors of. A life where if you wanted magic, you had to create it yourself. But it was all up to you.

He pictured a man, much like himself going about his life. The same, tedious routine every day. It wears him down but he doesn't complain. Everyone else is in the same position. But no one chooses to say anything on the matter. They merely utter a 'good morning' before heading on their merry way.

He heard the click of the front door handle and it brought him out of his writing.   
"'Lo, dear. Good morning."   
"Good--" John turned. "Morning?"   
"Yes, it is."   
"Already?"   
Paul laughed and wrapped his arms around John's waist when he was at the piano bench, pressing a kiss to his nose.   
"The movie ran quite late. It's very early, love, but it's still morning."   
"Oh, I see."   
Paul squinted at John's notes. "What did you write?"   
John shook his head. "I just got to thinking, and, you know me."   
Paul picked it up and began to read it aloud, plunking out the tune on the piano with his left hand.

"John," Paul stopped a moment.   
"Yeah?"   
"Do you remember how we all were before the Yellow Submarine?"   
John contemplated in deep thought. He ran a finger over the fabric of his pant leg. "Vaguely."   
"I just remember London being nothing but a Greystorm. Every day. It was a real drag, but other than that, I can't recall."   
"Me either. But you're right. It was always Greystorming."   
"I'm glad we came."   
John smiled widely at Paul. "Me too." He rested his head in the crook of Paul's neck and placed a gentle kiss there. Paul ran his fingers over John's hair and chuckled softly at his sudden mellow nature.   
"What's the matter John," He mused. "blue meanies?"   
John smacked Paul playfully on the arm and Paul giggled himself throughout the house, running away from John as he was chased.


	13. Strawberry Fields Forever

In the heart of Pepperland there was a vast field. It stretched on for miles, days, or whichever came first. Bush after bush of efferflourescent flowers soon gave way to apple and orange trees, but nothing compared to the strawberries grown there. The strawberry patch was by a large Oak tree and one lazy summer afternoon, Sgt. Pepper and his band found their way there to celebrate a successful week at the theatre. They were picking the ripened fruit off the vines, red juice staining their fingers. Paul bit into one and it changed from red to blue.   
"I haven't been here in a long time."   
"How long?" Billy asked.   
Paul looked at John. "...Not since before the band."   
George was strolling leisurely through the area, taking in the beauty of his surroundings within him. Until he tripped over something hard coming up out of the ground.   
"Ow! What's this?"   
Pepper turned and saw a protruding yellow object covered in dirt next to George's feet. He followed the line of it over a little ways and that's when he discovered that the Oak tree wasn't an Oak tree at all. It was the Yellow Submarine.   
"Is it...is it broken?" Billy asked.   
Pepper shook his head. "Nothing is ever broken beyond repair."   
George examined the remains and how the roots of the tree intermingled with the submarine. Leaves and flowers grew up through the rivets that once kept the windows together.   
Paul smiled. "Leave it."   
John looked at him curiously. "Why?"   
"It's not the Yellow Submarine anymore."   
"It's not?" Billy asked.   
Paul shook his head. "Can't you see? It serves another purpose."   
That's when they all realized just how far they had come. When they saw the roots breaking through faded yellow steel. For they too had their roots in this soil now, and they were vital to the community. John wrapped his arms around Paul and George pressed a kiss to the tip of Billy's nose as they all decided to sit by the rays of the setting sun and enjoy the fruits of their labor.


	14. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)

And so, here we are. In the plush seats of the Kite Theatre being dazzled and charmed beyond our wildest comprehension. Pepperland is in balance once again, the Band continues to play, and the love continues to grow.   
Yes, ladies and gentleman, it just keeps getting better and better. And who knows what will be in store for them by next Spring.

A story for another time, surely.   
As this one, right now takes its gentle end.   
_Good night, dear friends._


	15. EPILOGUE--A Day In the Life

JUNE 1ST, 1966, 12:41 PM, London, England

John was draped over Paul in the sloppy twin bed of the hotel room. He opened his eyes to find them staring back, bloodshot and slightly glazed in the bathroom mirror. Carefully, he rose to his feet and started to tread across the carpet to the bathroom, when he stepped on something cold and metallic. A little, oblong, silver case.   
'So, it did happen...' He remembered vaguely. His tired eyes popped wide.   
Paul. He rushed over and gently tried to shake him to.   
"Can you hear me, Paulie? Can you see me?"   
Paul groaned and twitched before his eyes focused. "W-What? I was sleeping."   
"Then close yer bleedin' eyes before ye scare me shitless!"   
Paul giggled and sat up slowly. "God I feel like i've been hallucinating for a week..."   
"Have we? Did we somehow do it wrong and now the week is gone?" John bagan to panic. Had the others come in and seen them high off their asses yelling at the wall about flowers growing in and decided to leave them there to deal with the consequences of their actions alone?   
Paul stood carefully and walked over to the kitchen counter where there was a small calendar on a placemat.   
"If we took it the 31 of May..." He murmured.   
John dragged his finger over the paper and rested on the next day. June 1st.   
"Then we..."   
"We've only been here a night! All of this happened in a night! And what time is it?!"   
"Barely noon."   
"Jesus Christ."   
"I'll stick to beer."   
"I dunno what I'll stick to but I need therapy."   
There was a silence between them and they both laid back down. Paul was running his fingers through John's hair and he hummed a tune under his breath that he remembered from his 'trip'.   
John hummed along and he smiled. Words popped into Paul's mind.   
'...And it doesn't really matter if I'm wrong--I'm right where I belong, I'm right where I belong...'  
"What did you dream about?" Paul asked John quietly.   
"What did I dream about?"   
"Yeah."   
John remembered the intense intertwining storyline that had continuously went on in his head the whole night. The colors, oh the beautiful colors! And the flowers. The wonderful, fleeting intimacy and familiarity of it all.   
What would it be like to actually live in that world? He wondered. Where magic was abundant and present. Where love could be love without a judging, watchful eye.   
Where they could be...themselves.   
"Us." He replied simply.   
Paul smiled. "Me too."   
Suddenly, a little nagging sound caught Paul's ear. He was still gaining his perception back slowly. A record was going in the corner of the room on a little case turntable, but it skipped horridly, stuck in the same place repeating over and over. He got up and removed the needle.   
"I hadn't even realized this was on."   
John turned his head. "Me either."   
John wrapped his arms around Paul and rested his head on his shoulder. As compared to an 'ordinary day' between them, the previous one had certainly been bizarre. And suddenly, his head was filled with lyrics. The nature of escapism. Fleeing from the depressing, drabness of ordinary life and experiencing a terrifying bliss. He wanted to have a comfortable life with Paul. He didn't want to deal with these tours anymore. He wanted to get away. But he wanted his love and his close friends to be with him. An ache formed in his chest.   
"You alright, love?" Paul whispered, lips brushing John's ear.   
"...Yeah." He looked over at the floor to see four white tablets left in the silver box. "I can't decide whether or not these are evil or useful."   
Paul laughed. "Perhaps a mixture of both."   
"Should we show the boys?"   
Paul pondered a moment. He thought about sharing the same dream with them, and maybe they too could see the color-filled wonderland they had experienced. But then he stopped himself. He wanted to keep this as something special between the two of them. This was their world. No one else's. They could be who and what they wanted to be here and no one could stop them. He covered John's warm hand with his own slightly cold one.   
"No."   
"No?"   
"No."   
John looked at Paul and it was all in his eyes. He kissed him gently on the lips. "Okay."   
Paul stretched and got out of bed, glancing at the clock. "Now we have to get ready, or we'll be late."   
John yawned in agreement. "Let me have me coffee and a quick check of the news first."   
"Alright, it's up to you."   
And those words stuck with him.   
It really was up to him. He could change this chaotic lifestyle. He could emulate a better life for him and Paul.   
And though it did seem far off, it wasn't impossible.   
And with Paul at his side--anything is possible.


End file.
